


You Don't Have to Go Home (But You Can't Stay Here)

by newisalwaysbetter



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Cuddling, F/M, Frottage, Kissing, Post-Canon, Public Sex, Shameless Smut, This got dirty, good feelings, more artsy than porny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-11-27 10:51:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18193616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newisalwaysbetter/pseuds/newisalwaysbetter
Summary: "Were he a better man, Flynn would walk out that door right now; he’d sworn to himself when they defeated Rittenhouse that he would walk out of her life. Were he a drunker man, Flynn would stay at the end of the bar and watch her; there was a time when he had thought there was no higher pleasure. Un- or maybe fortunately, Flynn is as shameless as he is sober, so he flags down the bartender and approaches cautiously with her glass in hand.“Buy you a drink?”(Now updated with a second chapter!)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set post-series. No warnings except sex, obvi :)  
> This is a prompt fill! Come send me fic requests at to-hell-with-oblivion on tumblr :)

Flynn’s first thought is that they have to stop meeting like this.

He sees her across the dim bar for the first time in months, and even though their time fighting Rittenhouse is long past, Flynn instantly flashes back to the bar in Sao Paolo.

Lucy looks better than she did then, but not by much. She’s alone, and in a burgundy dress that makes Flynn warm, but she’s not smiling and she settles glumly at the other end of the bar and orders a glass of something strong. 

Were he a better man, Flynn would walk out that door right now; he’d sworn to himself when they defeated Rittenhouse that he would walk out of her life. Were he a drunker man, Flynn would stay at the end of the bar and watch her; there was a time when he had thought there was no higher pleasure. Un- or maybe fortunately, Flynn is as shameless as he is sober, so he flags down the bartender and approaches cautiously with her glass in hand. 

“Buy you a drink?” 

Lucy starts to answer, but cuts off when she looks up and sees him. “Flynn,” she breathes, her eyes going wide, and he’s bracing himself to leave her alone when she rises from her seat and wraps him in a hug.

Flynn is momentarily thrown, but he’s attuned enough to her needs to realize that Lucy is holding him a little too tight, so he returns the hug stiffly. Lucy lets out a hot breath across his collarbone, and Flynn feels something warm and protective curl in his chest. He rubs a hand between her shoulderblades.

“Sit down,” Lucy encourages him when they pull apart. Whatever sadness had held her is momentarily past, and her eyes are sparkling. It makes Flynn’s heart turn over. “God, I haven’t seen you in months. How have you been?”

“Well. I got a job,” Flynn says, settling onto the bar stool beside her. “Which doesn’t involve shooting anyone. Which is new,” he says, and Lucy laughs, and god, he could listen to that sound forever. “But good.” He smiles back at her. “It’s…good.”

They talk about little things, like their new lives and their favorite alcohol, but what really matters happens between the words: the way Lucy leans forward with an inviting smile; the way their shoulders brush and linger; the way Flynn’s tongue slips out to moisten his lips. There’s something hanging in the air between them, elusive as sweet perfume, and although Flynn wants to grasp it, he isn’t sure how.

He eventually excuses himself to go to the restroom, and Lucy nurses her half-full glass, considering. It had been a bad night before this, and she can’t go back to her dark apartment, can’t take off this dress alone. 

That much is clear. She’s virtually sober, so Lucy takes a swig of her drink for courage before she rises from her stool and walks out of the room. 

She catches Flynn in the dark hallway outside the restrooms, and stops him short with a hand on his chest. The light flashes off his dark eyes as he hesitates. She’s lost in those eyes, and Lucy takes a deep breath while she’s figuring out what to say. 

But Flynn is there for her, as always, and he lowers his head very close and purrs against her temple, “Whatever you need…”

Oh, that voice makes her melt. Lucy turns her head, slowly, deliberately, and their eyes meet. There are any number of answers she could give, but words have never been what passes easiest between them, so Lucy seizes his lapel and pulls him into a hot kiss.

Flynn doesn’t hesitate–he’s hungry, this is what he’s wanted–but he gives her a moment to make sure this is what she wants. Lucy wraps a hand around the warm nape of his neck, pulling him deeper, and cups his face with the other. Flynn takes the hint and slides a hand up her scalp, threading his fingers through her soft hair.

Lucy can feel his other hand hovering uncertainly at her back. His tongue traces the seam of her mouth, a soft question, and Lucy answers his uncertainty with a sharp nip to his mouth.

He growls low, cloudy eyes flashing, and wraps his big arm around her lower back, pulling her close. Lucy tilts her head back, resting her weight in his arms as Flynn’s body surrounds her, and sighs in relief. Flynn feels the weight of her sadness on the horizon, and so he seals his mouth over hers. He wants to live forever in this moment, wants to block out the fact that they’re kissing like teenagers in the darkened hallway of a bar, so he takes a leap and moves his knee against her core.

She gasps and pushes on his shoulders, and Flynn pulls back, but it’s only so that she can push him against the wall and give him another kiss, this one all teeth.

“Do that again,” she hisses.

And Flynn is all too happy to oblige her, so he smiles and rests a hand on her lower back, pulling her against him while he slides a knee between her legs. Lucy puts her arms around his neck and grinds down against his hard leg. She pants and rests her head against his chest.

Flynn loves her enthusiasm, and he wants her close, so he chuckles low and uses his other arm to pin her close. His hand on her back eases lower, cupping her pelvis so he can help her thrust hard against him. He can’t stop watching her.

Lucy is mewling now, making small noises in the back of her throat, and Flynn thinks he might be holding her too hard, but their bodies are moving together and he doesn’t think he could let her go for a second. She tilts her head up, and she’s just tall enough to mouthe hungrily at the joint of his throat, which keeps her quiet but knocks the air out of him as surely as a punch. His hips buck involuntarily as Lucy ruts against him, and Lucy laughs breathlessly and cants her hips up, and  _oh_. That is…pressing softly against his leg…

“Y-you’re…” his words come in a rush of breath, and Flynn struggles to keep his tone dignified. “You’re not, ahem, wearing anything under that, are you.”

Lucy smiles wickedly. “Why do you ask?”

Two can play at that game, so Flynn returns the dark smile and fists a hand in her dress, dragging it up so that there’s nothing between his clothed thigh and her body. Lucy lets out a rush of breath, and then her smile curls in challenge, and she presses against him. Flynn’s suit pants are thin, and yes, he can feel her warmth and wetness against his leg.

They resume moving again, Lucy’s body undulating against him as she hangs off of Flynn’s neck, on her tiptoes. Flynn’s hand holds her backside, keeping her pressed to him, and they pant against each other as Lucy moves faster. Her dress, rucked up to where their bodies meet, rustles with every thrust. It’s warm and shameless and needy, and Flynn is a solid wall of muscle against her, and Lucy’s cunt is burning a hole in his thigh.

When she comes, Lucy falls limp against him, gasping for breath. Flynn is breathing hard too, though it’s with the effort of holding himself in check, and he runs his hands over her body with abandon to distract himself. He slides his knee from between her legs, and her dress sinks down between them.

“I could do that again,” Lucy says. It’s light, but there’s a question there.

When he answers, Flynn’s gruff voice is low. “I’d like that.”

“Yeah? Good.” Lucy smiles in relief. She pushes off of him and straightens her clothes. “Do you want to come home with me?”

Flynn takes her wrist and pulls her back to him. “ _Always._ ” 

“That’s what I like to hear.” Lucy smiles and runs a hand down his tie, and Flynn momentarily forgets to breathe. “ _Someone_  has to help me take off this dress.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a request for continuation of the original oneshot. More sex, more kissing, more Feelings.
> 
> As always, prompts remain open at to-hell-with-oblivion on tumblr! :)

Lucy looks so flushed and ravished after the fact that Flynn just wants to sweep her into his arms and carry her out into the street. And while he’s not sure she would complain if he did, Flynn is still trying to regain a modicum of normality, and that seems like the sort of wild-man nonsense he’s trying to avoid, so Flynn limits himself to gallantly paying their tab and calling for a taxi.

All the while, Lucy presses into his side, her soft hair against his chin and her teeth scraping along his collarbone. “ _Stop that,_ ” he hisses, with a helpless smile. 

Lucy rolls her eyes and presses a last kiss to the strip of his chest exposed by the open collar of his dress shirt. “It’s not  _my_  fault I can’t reach any higher on you…”

“Well.” He breathes into her hair. “Maybe I can help you with that.”

Flynn’s determined not to jump her like a teenager in the back of the cab, until Lucy crawls across the seat and straddles his thighs. 

She hesitates, breathing in his face, her dark eyes opaque with uncertainty. Flynn realizes suddenly that his hands are hovering, so he wraps his whole body around her. One hand cradles her head, sliding into her hair, and Lucy surges against him, pressing into a deep, warm kiss. That’s good. The last thing he wants is for her to be scared.

The sit body-to-body like that for the rest of the ride, not rutting, not even kissing. Lucy’s hands slip under Flynn’s suit jacket and roam over the lines of his body, seeking purchase. One of Flynn’s arms presses against the small of her back, and his hand cups her hipbone and rubs a circle there. His other hand cups her face, and their foreheads press together, and they pant shallowly against each other’s lips.

As they pull up to Lucy’s building, she smiles wickedly and rolls her hips against his hardness. Flynn has been restrainng himself for the last hour, and the friction makes him hisses sharply. Lucy winks and slides off his lap, and Flynn reaches out, unthinking, to pull her back to him. Her eyes are warm as she takes his hand to lead him out into the night.

Lucy squeezes his ass when they’re out of the taxi, so Flynn hooks an arm around her waist and purrs into her ear, and then, fortunately, the taxi speeds away before one of them can pin the other against the door and kiss them silly. 

Lucy’s street is dark and empty, which means there’s no one around to see Flynn scoop her into his arms and carry her up the steps to her building. Lucy squeaks in delight and puts her arms around his neck.

She makes him put her down to unlock the door. Flynn presses up behind her, a warm, solid wall, and brushes her hair to the side so that he can run feathery kisses up her neck. His hands are all over her, and Lucy’s hand falters around the key, and with a sigh, she melts back against him. Flynn steadies her with a warm hand on her lower belly.

“You’re distracting me,” Lucy whispers.

“ _Good._ ” She can feel Flynn smile against her ear. “It’s no more than you deserve, for the hell you put me through earlier.”

Lucy turns her head to steal a kiss at Flynn’s stubbly jawline, finds his hand, and tangles her fingers with his. “And what, pray tell–” she’s breathless– “is that?” Before Flynn can answer, the lock clicks, and the door swings open, revealing darkness within. Lucy turns to face him, takes his face in her hands, and licks the reply out of his mouth. 

Her eyes are dark as she whispers against him, “Show me.”

Once inside, they’re all hands. Lucy, the smaller, finds herself pinned between Flynn’s hard body and the cool wall. She can’t get enough of his neck, his mouth. She wants all of him, and when she lifts her hands to cup his sharp jawline, his rise to cover hers. Lucy tries to cover his hands with hers in return, and giggles into his mouth, and they fiddle, and suddenly she’s holding one of his wrists in each hand.

Lucy’s stomach turns over pleasantly, and Flynn’s eyes go impossibly soft, and a little breath escapes her.  _Oh._ Slowly, she pins his hands together behind his back, and suddenly Flynn is panting against her temple, and she gingerly leans forward and whispers into his ear, “ _Stay._ ”

And he does stay, as Lucy unbuttons his dress shirt and slides it off his shoulders. Flynn trembles when her fingertips ghost over his scarred chest, but he holds the position. When Lucy looks up, there’s something broken and wounded in his eyes.

“It’s all right. You’re all right.” Lucy frees his wrists with a touch, and reaches up to cup his face. “Good?”

“ _Wonderful,_ ” he says, and kisses her. His hands find hers on his chest, and move them lower with gentle intent. Lucy smiles, her eyes shining.

After she opens his fly, Flynn shucks off his suit pants and kneels naked before her. He’s scarred and lovely in the moonlight, all long, bony limbs. His dark eyes shine with something like devotion. Lucy smiles down at him, and delicately lays her fingers against his temples. He turns his head to kiss her palm, long and slow. 

“Hi there,” Lucy breathes, with a smile. It’s like seeing each other for the first time, again.

Flynn looks up at her, eyes crinkling at the edges in a smile. “Hello, yourself.”

“C’mere,” she whispers, and Flynn obliges, rising slowly onto his knees. His hands slide up her bare thighs, under her dress. Lucy’s breath catches when he noses under the hem, and he hitches it higher, dark eyes alight with mischief.

As Flynn kisses his way up her thigh, Lucy cradles the nape of his neck, and Flynn presses up against her. He licks along the seam of her hip before looking up at her. “Tell me what you want,” he breathes.

Lucy can’t stand being so far from him. She sinks to the floor, running a worshipful hand over his scruff. “You,” she whispers. “Always you.”

She holds his shoulders and lies back, there on the floor of her apartment, and Flynn crawls over her body to drink from her lips. He’s like a weighted blanket thrown over her, keeping her warm, holding her down. 

Lucy could kiss him forever, but one of his hands tightens on her shoulder, and she lets him pull back.

“You have me,” he promises her, fiercely. Lucy trembles in the night, and Flynn slides his hands comfortingly along her body, and the dress comes up, and Flynn goes…down.


End file.
